"Pooh!" said Pilot with one ear, and was out and away before one could say "Oats," much less "Jack Robinson." Madam Flynt's bonnet was over one eye, Miss Croly's dangled from the back of her head. "Cornelia," said Madam Flynt, "I have left you an annuity!" "Oh, Clarissa!" moaned Miss Croly, "I have sometimes opposed your wishes; with the best intent, but perhaps mistakenly. Forgive me! We will die together!" "An annuity," repeated Madam Flynt; "sufficient to keep you and Sarah in the house--_oh!_ as long as you live. Abby Ann has her brother. The rest goes to Kitty--_Ah!_" Another "honeypot." This time any one but Kitty and Pilot would have thought they _must_ go over. "It is coming!" gasped Miss Croly. "Clarissa, _fall on me_! My body will break the fall: you may escape----" Even in this crisis, Madam Flynt's sense of humor did not desert her. "I don't know that bones are any better than rocks to fall on!" she whispered. "Hold on tight, Cornelia! _hold on_----" But now, a miracle! They whirled round a corner, whirled up a driveway: a touch on the reins, a word, and Pilot stood, breathing quickly, but otherwise statue-like, before Dr. Pettijohn's door. He had _not_ been running away! Kitty had had him in control all the time! In one thought-flash, Miss Croly removed Joan of Arc and Mary Stuart from their pedestals and set up Kitty Ross as her Heroine for all time. Three minutes more, and they were speeding back, still at arrow-flight. Dr. Pettijohn knew Pilot and Kitty, and leaned back comfortably on the front seat, reflecting that it was criminal for such a horse as that to be owned by any one but a doctor. Madam Flynt resumed her dignity, and cast a quelling glance at Miss Croly, who was now making ineffective dabs at her patroness's bonnet with a view to straightening it. "Let me alone!" said the lady. "I prefer it as it is. And _hold on_, you ridiculous woman! We are going faster than ever, even if the animal is under control." Kitty was very sorry about poor Mr. Gaylord, but she could not help realizing that Pilot was in wonderful condition to-day. She quoted under her breath, for Dr. Pettijohn's benefit: "I would not have the horse I drive So fast that folks should stop and stare; An easy gait,--two-forty-five-- Suits me; I do not care. Perhaps, _just for a single spurt_, Some seconds less would do no hurt!" The doctor nodded. "Trouble is, Miss Kitty, your track is too short!" he said, as the Gaylord chimneys rose above the next turn of the road. "I know!" Kitty nodded regretfully. "He's just got warmed up to his work, and here we are!" Here they were; turning in at the great gateway; crunching over the gravel; stopping at the gaunt front door, which had not been opened in twenty years. It opened now, and Judge Peters stood on the steps.